I.
Fear and Hunger
August 25th, 2010
"Hey, Doc?"
She locked the cage behind the little black cat, tucked into its blankets with the bandage around its paw, and looked over her shoulder. It was just the two of them today, the day coming to a close for the office, and Sia was certain this was going to be a request to leave early again. Her receptionist always tried to leave early to meet up with friends and get drunk quicker on a Friday.
"What's up?" Sia asked. She pushed herself back to her feet with a tired groan. Most of the cages were empty, save for a few patients that were staying overnight for observation. "Someone out the front?"
Tina, the receptionist, fidgeted awkwardly on the spot in the doorway. She was wearing a surgical mask, which Sia gave a confused look for the briefest of seconds.
"One of, uh, Mrs. Bateman's relatives called. She got sick with that thing that's been going around and was taken into hospital after she dropped off Sneakers." Tina cleared her throat. "I don't feel sick or anything, but I wanna… go to the clinic and just make sure. Since I had to walk up to her to take the cat and paperwork."
Ah. "Yeah, sure. Call them ahead of time and make sure they know you wanna be checked out. Feel free to use the office phone. I'll stay with Sneakers till someone else comes get him."
Tina glanced at the black cat warily. She wiped some sweat from her brow and mumbled, "Mrs. Bateman's son said Sneakers should stay here until she's better. She… tore their parrot in half, apparently. Just had a complete meltdown and shit."
Which meant one of them had to look after Sneakers for a while. The vet wasn't exactly big enough to do more than house recovering animals, and Sneakers was going to need to roam around eventually. Sia pinched the bridge of her nose, holding back a sigh, and glanced down at the cat. Of all times for Mrs. Bateman to have a meltdown and get sick…
"I'll take him home. We have some litter out back and kibble, right?"
"Yeah. There's a whole unopened box you can take. His carrier's out with it, too."
Well, that was that. She supposed the house was going to be a bit livelier this week. She didn't think her grandfather would mind much, at least.
Sia nodded and waved dismissively to Tina. "Go make the call and keep me updated. I don't wanna force you to come in Monday if you're unwell."
"Thanks, Doc."
It was a stroke of luck that no other people came in with their pets today. All the appointments were over and done with, an hour left until they and the clinic next door closed for the weekend. It was just Sia and the animals, patiently waiting for the night shift to come in and tend to them as they needed.
This was how things were lately for Sia Blum. Taking home her patients not included, a lot of pets were left overnight or over the weekend for the staff to look after while their owners worked out their own health. It wasn't too big in Salem yet, as far as she knew, but it was becoming more frequent—the rates at which pets were left waiting anxiously for their owners. Normally Sia wouldn't even take the pets home, especially since some of the staff volunteered to watch over the animals overnight until things calmed down, but even before Sneakers was brought in they were starting to near capacity. Barely a few more pets could be left for a day visit before the cages were all full and the supplies were all exhausted.
Daniel, one of the volunteers, once suggested she take some of the animals home to her big wood cabin. Turn it into a little shelter for them to wait at, like a little daycare. The idea would've been great, if she weren't already taking care of a whole human person on top of the animals. Sia could only handle so much running around at once, especially when the house was far from animal-proofed at the moment. A whole pack of dogs running around and cats climbing over her grandfather's things was too much for just one person to keep track of.
She could at least hold on to Sneakers for a few days, though. It wouldn't be just her anymore looking after her grandfather.
The night-time volunteer arrived and she made quick work of packing the box of kibble and litter into the back of the truck. Sneakers was still groggy from the anaesthesia, purring nonetheless when she pulled him from his cage and put him in his carrier. Mrs. Bateman had been generous enough to bring Sneakers' favourite toy and blanket with him to keep him calm, and he got comfy as soon as Sia zipped the carrier up. A simple capsule carrier she could wear like a backpack, Sia slung Sneakers over her shoulder and handed the spare keys to the volunteer.
"Missy needs her insulin shot after she eats dinner, so make sure you give it to her before she goes to sleep tonight—ah, her cage will say Missile Launcher, not Missy, she just responds to Missy instead." Sia half-turned to the back door, where her truck was parked outside. "I'll fill out an invoice for the supplies I'm taking with me and there's a note on the desk to send an email to the boss to take it out of the upcoming pay. Think you can send that for me? The scanner at home's broken and I gotta run."
"Got it, got it. Say hi to Gramps for me."
Sia nodded in farewell and the door was locked behind her. Sneakers barely stirred when she loaded him into the front seat and kicked the truck into gear. She peeled out of the parking lot and headed straight for the bus station halfway across town.
While Sia had been busy with work, self-proclaimed patriarch Isaiah Blum had been hard at work keeping contact with the courts and lawyers. It was just the two of them living in Salem, the only other relatives having left for Boston before Sia had been born, and for a while she'd been in Boston too. It was just Isaiah and his in-home nurse for a few years, until Sia was old enough to leave without being reported missing and move in with her grandfather as a caretaker. His other granddaughter, her sister, had been too young to leave—and now, after what had apparently been years of struggles back in Boston because of a messy divorce that had yet to be finalised and both sides of the divorce using their one remaining child to torment the other, Isaiah Blum had custody granted to him by the courts instead.
Ruby, from what she'd been told, had been staying at friends' houses during school nights and only went home on weekends. A lot of time preparing to come to Salem had been spent collecting all the belongings scattered around the suburb in different houses, as well as getting a final okay from her doctor to leave. Sia couldn't recall the last time she'd actually spent time with Ruby without their parents around. Maybe when she first started college? She could've sworn Ruby had stayed the night after the congratulatory party Isaiah held at the cabin.
With Ruby at home, taking care of Isaiah and Sneakers at the same time would be easier. Ruby always loved animals. She just didn't want to pursue a career in the same field as Sia, and Sia could understand that. Ruby was always better at sports than at academics, and Isaiah always bragged about how he had to live long enough to see his granddaughter make it to the big leagues. All very touching, Sia told herself at the time, but a fleeting goal when it came to how long those good times tended to last. She hoped, somewhere deep down, that Sneakers would help Ruby adjust to Salem and being away from their parents a little easier too.
When she pulled up at the bus station, she wasn't sure which teenager was Ruby right away. Tourist season was coming up, since Salem went hand in hand with Halloween, and a lot of kids with relatives in the area liked to come over before things kicked off. She scanned the seats out front, narrowing the teens down by gender at first, and then she let out a sigh of relief when she saw Ruby exit the bus station with a hand in her sweatshirt pocket and her suitcase wheeling behind her.
The relief lasted only until she saw the cast hidden under the sweatshirt, Ruby's entire forearm and two of her fingers covered in plaster and gauze.
"Oh my God, what happened to you?" Sia blurted out. Ruby lifted her sunglasses from her eyes, and there were deep bags under them.
"Oh, y'know," she drawled.
Sia wasn't sure if she should grab her sister and hug her tight or not. Distance made things difficult, especially when they hardly saw each other to begin with.
"Is… Is this all you're bringing?"
"Oh, yeah. I was kinda in a rush to get out of there. It's not like I can't get more stuff here anyway."
Was the divorce really going that badly? No, she shouldn't assume her parents had anything to do with it. But it made sense, considering the way they were… No, Ruby would tell her when she was ready. This was no time to assume things and walk on eggshells for no reason.
Sia opened the passenger side door for Ruby and loaded her suitcase into the back. At first Ruby didn't enter, staring at Sneakers' carrier, and it dawned on Sia that she couldn't see Sneakers clearly in the shady parts of the bag.
With a small huff of a laugh, Sia lifted Sneakers' carrier up and let Ruby crawl into the truck. As soon as she was buckled up, she placed Sneakers on her lap and said, "Here's the other new addition. His name is Sneakers."
Ruby let out the smallest of sounds. "That's such a stupid name. I love it."
"Well he's your stupid best friend until his family can take him back," Sia said. The truck roared to life, and Sneakers revealed himself to Ruby with a flash of teeth as he yawned.
The drive to the cabin wasn't entirely silent. The CD player filled the truck with a low, soft tune that didn't upset Sneakers for the trip, and even after a while Ruby made comments about her first impressions of Salem so far. She probably didn't remember much of the last trip she had here, and Sia made no moves to correct her; she just listened and drove, only interrupting to tell her which of the distant properties towards the outskirts of Salem belonged to Isaiah. The cabin wasn't in the best of shape, being old and having survived the weather over the years, but it was still sturdy and looked as homely as the first day she'd moved in. A single storey, though wider than most homes to make up for the lack of height, and just a short distance away was the beginnings of some mild woodland Sia would get their firewood from.
Really, all you had to do was add a lake to it and it was a perfect holiday home.
Isaiah was sitting on the porch when they pulled up, glass of whiskey in hand and his legs stretched out in front of him. Sia wasn't sure how long he'd been waiting, but when he saw the girls begin to get out of the truck, he was quick to down the rest of his whiskey and groan as he hoisted himself up to his feet.
He limped halfway down the stairs and through the yard to meet Ruby, and he swept her up in a hug that she returned eagerly. Sia watched silently, Sneakers and the suitcase in either hand, as her grandfather relaxed for the first time in weeks.
Getting custody had been difficult for him at first. He wasn't fit, since he needed a caretaker, and Sia was too busy to take care of Ruby as the guardian. But when Ruby had given Isaiah evidence via email of how much the divorce was wearing her down, the ways their parents would try to make Ruby hurt each other, the courts had no problem granting Isaiah custody. If he was competent enough to provide evidence and petition so hard, then what could they do to stop the pensioner aside from checking in once a month and report on the living conditions?
The new additions settled in quicker than Sia had anticipated. Sneakers was a lazy cat overall, having been trained to go on trips and stay in hotel rooms with ease because of Mrs. Bateman's refusal to leave him with a cat sitter when she travelled. He made himself comfy on his blanket after Sia set it up in front of the fireplace with his toy, and he barely moved again until it was time to eat. Ruby, meanwhile, practically claimed her spot on the couch in the living room and ate half of their pizza in one sitting, freshly ordered by Isaiah just for her. She had a bigger appetite than Sia remembered, but she supposed it made sense with how much she was running around all the time.
Isaiah sank into the couch with a grunt and, after rolling up his pants legs, unclasped his prosthetics to set them aside. Sia set down a bowl of leftover lasagna for him on the tray beside his spot.
"That's the stuff," Isaiah wheezed. "Didn't expect the cat, but I won't complain."
"Neither did I," Sia admitted. "His owner got that disease going around and the rest of the family doesn't want him to get hurt."
Isaiah scoffed. "Decency to keep an animal safe," he muttered. "Absolutely ridiculous, how bad this is getting. Rube, how bad is it in Boston? They got a lot of cases their way?"
Ruby was halfway through a generous amount of crust when she spoke. "M'school closed last week," she started. Ruby swallowed the rest of her pizza before continuing, "Gettin' real violent back there."
The old man tutted and shook his head.
"I wonder if they'll stop tourism in Salem this year," Sia pondered. "Coming from all over… Then again, we're already getting cases."
"The witch shit is too profitable," Isaiah said matter-of-factly. He downed half the lasagna in record time, energy renewed with both granddaughters home. Sia almost couldn't believe how quickly his previous anxiety and gloom had melted away now that Ruby was here. "I say they'll police who comes in and out instead."
It made sense. Sia picked at her dinner with a dubious hum, and Isaiah switched on the television to fill the silence.
Some quick asides for rules that I expect you guys to follow, because SYOCs need rules and this is my story and I make the rules for it.
1. Deadline is Feb 28th 12AM UTC + 0. I will be closing my inbox at that point unless you ask for an extension, or I offer one to make changes I ask of you.
2. Send your OC with the topic "Fear and Hunger: [OC name]". It keeps things organised. If you send it without that topic format, I will make you resend it, and we don't want to make a big fuss over a subject title, right?
3. If your OC doesn't fit into one single message, then DO NOT CUT OUT THINGS. Do not tell me you couldn't fit all of the OC in and leave it at that. Don't be lazy. Go into the outbox and open the thread you sent to me and send the rest of your OC. I don't care if it takes multiple messages to fit everything in. But to go on from that...
4. If your OC has a backstory that breaches 1.5k words and a personality that breaches 1k words, shorten it. I struggle with extreme detail and my mindset on that much detail that will inevitably go unwritten is to just do a fanfic of your own for the character. To boot, if your OC takes more than 20 messages to send in full (which you can measure by just opening a message thread and watching the character count under the message box and marking when it cuts off each time), you need to cut some fat. Please. TL;DR your OC should not be one message long, and should not be more than 20 messages long.
5. I really would appreciate feedback every so often just to make sure things are going right? With portrayals and general thoughts on the fic. It's not mandatory, but it is extremely appreciated!
6. I will only be accepting around 10 OCs, maybe a few more if I'm confident. If your OC doesn't make the cut, don't worry! I'm sure I'll work something out once I have some confidence up for later survivor encounters.
7. No relationships to canon characters. They won't appear at all in this.
8. Most importantly: HEED THE GUIDELINES IN MY PROFILE. If I see a military member without being asked permission first, it's an instant rejection. If I see someone who knows the ins and outs of the Wildfire virus, it's an instant rejection. My fanfiction is not an outlet for your military power fantasy or OP protagonist power fantasy.